


Real People

by Rayvynheart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Being a Demon Changed Dean, Family, M/M, Mark of Cain, Men of Letters Bunker, No big gay panic, Post-Demon Dean, Romance, Slow Build, some fluff and some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 11:31:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2730872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayvynheart/pseuds/Rayvynheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester has never been "real people". He's never felt like he deserves what "real people" have.<br/>Maybe he's changing his mind about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This work is inspired by Hozier's song "Like Real People Do".

“People who love me, they pulled me back from that edge”

  


As soon as he said those words to Cole, he knew it was true. There were people-plural-not person, not Sammy, not singular- but people who loved him, and they pulled him back.

But he also knew the truth of his other words. He was past saving.

  


Of course his brother confronted him as soon as the immediate threat was neutralized and driving off in the jeep.

  


“Did you really mean that? You are past saving?”

“I told him what he needed to hear. That’s it.” Dean said it in the tone that let Sam know the conversation was over.

Dean hoped it was, but knowing Sam as he does, he suspects it’s just over for now.

The drive back to the bunker isn’t as long as some of the rides they’ve taken. Still, Sam passed out about 15 minutes from the Missouri border. Dean has music playing, of course, but it’s not on very loud. Since his time as a demon, he’s a little more sensitive to noise. He won’t admit it to Sammy, but when he has the choice, he prefers quiet music, or even silence. That’s just one of the many things that have changed since he “touched the darkness” as he said to Cole.  
This thought reminds him of other things he said to Cole.

  
_People._   
_People who love me._   


Dean knows his mother loved him. And Bobby. He believes his father loved him, too. Sometimes he has to choose to believe it, to ignore the doubts that creep in, but he does. And of course Sam loves him. But Dean hasn’t often had the luxury of knowing that there is more than one person at any given time who would give a damn if he lived or died.

Yet that word-people- came out of his mouth with zero hesitation. None whatsoever. Could that be because it was the truth? And could it be that Dean actually believed it?

  


Dean remembers that terrifying moment when he was about to kill Sammy. He wasn’t terrified at the time, only in retrospect. In that moment, all he felt was rage and burning bloodlust. He was on fire.

  


Then suddenly strong ( **so strong** ) arms gripped him and blessed coolness broke over him like an ocean wave.

  


It’s over, Dean. It’s over.

It wasn’t over. Not completely. But it was halted. An hour later he was back in his bedroom, flipping through pictures. Realizing there was one face missing from his stack of snapshots. One ( **beloved?** ) face.

  


A knock. Words exchanged. Looks given and taken, maybe a bit greedily. Dean couldn’t help but step towards Castiel. He wanted to close the gap between them. The literal gap in physical space, but more important, most important, he wanted to mend the rift between them. He wanted his friend back.

  


But for Dean, words are hard. The truth is hard. He hid behind concern for Sam, not saying, not really, how affected he was by this angel in front of him. The closest he comes was telling Cas he’s glad he’s here.

Dean wished that had been enough. But as far as Cas had come in understanding subtlety, he hadn’t picked up on Dean’s need. Need for the angel. Need for his family to be together. So Cas left. Left with the female in the car and the mission from on high.

  


At the time, Dean pushed down his disappointment. He threw himself into spending time with Sammy. Real time, doing things real people do. Sitting by a lake, vintage cooler between them, drinking beers.

It had felt strange. Good, but still strange. It reminded Dean of being in the Trickster’s TV land. He felt like he was playing a part. The werewolf had been such a relief. Maybe that was just a role, too, but at least Dean knows his lines when he is playing the hunter.

After that was the Musical, which made him feel things he wasn’t sure he was ready ( **able** ) to feel. Things about his life. About Sam. About Cas. Watching your life acted out in front of you, even a life transformed into something…other…well, it can shed some light on a few things.

  


Maybe that’s what he meant when he told Cole the stories we tell ourselves blind us. What else is Dean blind to?

  


Their arrival at the bunker puts a stop to Dean’s thoughts. He punches Sam in the arm to wake him, grateful that they are both still here in this moment. They shoulder their bags and descend the steps.

  


They are Home.

  
 


	2. Chapter Two

Dean sleeps very well. That’s a new thing. Post-demon. Before the Mark of Cain, he slept fitfully, rarely getting more than a few hours strung together, and those laced with nightmares.

Then as a demon he didn’t sleep at all. Day ran into night, and it got to the point where the only way he really knew the difference was by observing what the humans around him were doing. Bloody Marys and the occasional mimosa meant daytime. Whiskey, beer, and blackouts told him night had descended.

After the devil’s trap and the cure, Dean found refuge in sleep. He hadn’t slept this well since he was a boy, before he lost his mother. The few exceptions to that general rule were those times he startled awake to find Cas nearby. He remembered the sleep proceeding those times as being good. Refreshing even. And then there was purgatory, after he and Benny had found Cas and were bringing him home. Maybe it was the constant need for vigilance, or the purity of his purpose, but there, he woke ready to go, full of energy and intensity.

_Strange._

  


One of the first things Dean did after the cure was change the sheets on his bed. He stripped it, hauling the sheets and blankets down to the laundry room. He couldn’t bear the thought of resting his head on the pillow where he had laid down human and woken up demon. Plus, a lifetime of living in motels had gotten him used to clean sheets. Those motels may have been fleabags, but they almost always had freshly laundered linens.

After his things were washed and dried, he’d remade his bed. Absently he thought he really ought to get a second pillow. He might want to prop himself up to read in bed sometime. He didn’t allow himself to consider any other reason he might want a second pillow.

Now returning to the bunker-returning home-Dean realizes how much he’s missed his room. He sets his duffle on the end of the bed and puts his colt in its place. He’ll give all of his weapons a thorough cleaning tomorrow. He is still playing so much catch up after letting everything descend into rot and ruin during his time with Crowley. The Impala seems to have forgiven him finally.

  


He remembers what he said to Sam.

  


“It’s just a car.”

  


But as with so many other things during that time, it feels like someone else said it. Not Dean. Not him.

  


Dean knows the truth, though. It was him. Maybe the worst version of himself, but he can’t get away from the fact…that, all of it, has always been inside of him. The Mark just tore down all the barriers between that Dean and the one he worked hard to show to the world.

  


Dean unpacks the rest of his duffle and puts the dirty clothes in the hamper. He takes his shaving kit to the bathroom, reminding himself to make sure he refills his travel shampoo and gets more shaving cream before the next time they hit the road. He needs to take the Fed suits to the cleaners, too.

He supposes he should start a list, but he is just tired enough not to bother. Sam will remind him what needs doing. That kid’s always been good about those kinds of details.

  


Dean recognizes despite his weariness, he’s also pretty restless. It’s a feeling he’s used to from years of adrenalin rushes, followed up by impossibly long car rides. It’s a nervous energy he knows is pointless to fight or ignore.

Used to be he’d drink himself away from this feeling. Now, well, he’s trying to take it easy. He’s trying to somehow, at long last, deal with some things in a non-destructive way. He’s heard it’s what healthy people do.

He leaves his room to find Sam. Maybe he feels restless, too. Maybe they can figure out something to do together.

Dean can’t help the thought that flits across his mind at the idea of ‘together’:

  
_We aren’t together. Not all of us. Not yet._   


He hopes they will be soon.


	3. Chapter Three

They’ve settled into a routine here at the bunker. It strikes Dean as funny, when he thinks of it. He and Sam, finally with a place of their own. Space and time to fall into things like routines. Better routines and ruts than the traps they generally seemed to tumble headfirst into.

Dean gets up early. Too many years of making sure he has time to take care of Sammy properly has permanently set his internal alarm to 5:30AM. Doesn’t matter what time zone they happen to be in-somehow Dean’s body just knows when to open his eyes.

Since he’s up first, he puts the coffee on. Strong coffee was his very first vice, and still one of his favorites. He remembers being 9 or 10 and begging his Dad for sips from his mug. Occasionally John would relent and hand over the cup. Dean learned to only ask in the mornings; If he tried to get a taste in the afternoon or evenings, he was likely to get a big slug of alcohol with his coffee. If coffee was his first vice, John’s carelessness ensured booze wasn’t far behind.

Dean has always made a great cup of coffee. He just knows the perfect ground- to-water ratio, and the precise temperature of water that creates the prime cup of joe. He tries to keep things basic-just a nice breakfast blend, or maybe a French roast if he is feeling particularly exotic. He’ll sometimes get flavored grounds, things like hazelnut or vanilla caramel. It’s a treat, a simple one, but sometimes simple is the best.

He finds he likes indulging in the muzzy feeling of making coffee before he’s full awake. He allows himself to enjoy not having to be awake in an instant. Not having to choose flight or fight in a split second. If he were older, he might even refer to his mornings as puttering. He has his pride, though, so he doesn’t.

He’s usually on to his second cup by the time Sam rolls out of bed. When he lumbers into the kitchen, all messy hair and morning breath, Dean can’t help but see his 8 year old kid brother. It’s as if that adorable little boy is superimposed on this giant. Dean knows this is part of why he has such a hard time letting Sam be his own man. Whenever he looks at Sam, it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust. Sam will just always be Sammy to Dean.

“You want some breakfast?” Dean asks with a gruff voice. Though he’s been up for some time, he hasn’t spoken yet, and his voice is still a bit rough. Rougher than usual, at any rate.

“Sure, if you’re having some.”

Sam pours his own cup of coffee, snags his laptop off the counter, then settles in at the kitchen bar. Dean appreciates the company. Sam could just as easily go to the library table to research while Dean cooks, but instead he folds his long frame onto a barstool.

“Any cases?” Dean asks absently. He wants to work. Needs to work, really. Sam knows this, too, so he’s been faithfully culling through police websites and paranormal blogs. Dean suspects Sam is censoring which cases he mentions. They both know Dean needs to start slow. As much as Dean hates the kid-gloves approach, he believes it’s the best thing to do.

“Meh, nothing I can really find. A few strange things over Nebraska way. Think I’ll keep an eye on it, but I’m not ready to hop in the car to investigate in person just yet.”

Dean nods. He understands. He truly does. Doesn’t make it any easier. He wants to work. He loves the bunker, but the longer he’s here, well…

He keeps finding himself wandering from room to room. He is looking for something, but he’s not sure what. He’ll walk into a room, look all around, letting his eyes fall on every surface, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for.

It’s that sense of knowing you are forgetting something, but unable to remember what it might be. He considers saying something to Sam. Maybe Sam would know what he’s forgetting. Maybe it’s not so much forgetting as it is missing. Maybe he’s missing something.

Dean flips the eggs with a quick flick of his wrist. 30 seconds more over the flame and they are perfect-over medium just like Sammy loves. Buttered toast and a coffee refill-Dean feels a sense of peace descending on him as he does this. As he cares for Sam.

This is a role he knows how to play.


	4. Chapter Four

“Jimmy? Really? Hmmm. Why now?”

Dean hears Sam before he sees him. Sam is in the library, ostensibly researching, but probably re-reading Lord of the Rings. He’s such a nerd.

Dean wonders who Sam is talking to. That name, Jimmy, conjures up just one person for Dean.

Just one.

“Yeah, well sure, we can probably meet you. Let me just ask…Yeah, he’s good. Really good, actually. Almost makes me nervous…Well, Cas, you know we don’t really do “good” very well.”

                Cas.  


                          Cas  


    Cas.  


How can Dean’s chest simultaneously clench and loosen? What is that? And why is his face heating up?

Sam turns slightly and sees Dean.

“Yeah, he’s right here. I’ll talk to him and call you back.”

Sam smiles at something Cas says. Dean ignores the stab of jealousy in his gut.

“I’ll tell him. Talk to you soon.”

Sam hangs up and turns to face Dean.

Dean raises his eyebrows in inquiry, but doesn’t say anything. He actually feels like he might not be capable of speaking at the moment, anyway.

“That was Cas. You’ll never believe what he’s doing.”

Every worst case scenario possible jumps to Dean’s mind. What’s that careless bastard gotten himself wrapped up in now? His spine stiffens in anticipation of the blow Sam is about to deliver.

“He’s going to find Jimmy’s family. Make reparation or something. He’s asked if we’ll meet him. I think he’d like to have some friendly faces there with him. Who knows what kind of reception he’s bound to get.”

It takes Dean just a moment to wrap his mind around the fact that this actually doesn’t sound that bad. He was expecting so much worse. It throws him off, this sudden rush of emotion at the realization-relief that it’s not a life or death (or angel and demon) thing. Anticipation at the thought of being able to see the angel again. Disappointment that it was Sam he called instead of Dean. And maybe a little fear. The last time he saw Cas, he had so much he wanted to say to his friend, yet the angel beat such a hasty retreat, evidently in a big hurry to get back to the female in his car.

There it is-an emotion Dean knows well: Anger.

“Why doesn’t he just ask Hannah if he wants a friendly face so badly? I’m sure she’s plenty friendly to him.” Dean knows this is irrational, but this anger is the only thing that makes any sense to him. It’s the only thing he can deal with, even though he recognizes just how petty it is.

Sam knows it’s petty, too, but he also knows his brother. So he just looks at him levelly for a moment.

“Hannah’s gone. She let her vessel go. It’s what got Cas thinking about Jimmy to begin with.”

Wait. What? Cas can’t be thinking about returning Jimmy to his family. What would happen to Cas without a vessel? He would be forced to return to heaven. He’d have to leave Dean.

Sam watches as Dean silently works himself into a panic. Sam knows Dean so well.

“Dean, Jimmy is gone. Cas told me. He’s moved on. It’s just Cas in there now. I think Cas just wants to try and tie up some loose ends.”

Dean lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding with a whoosh. So if Jimmy’s gone, and it’s just Cas, well maybe Cas might stick around.

“So where are we meeting him?”

Dean tries to keep the smile from his face, but it creeps in.

Cas. He’s going to see Cas.  


It’s like old times between the brothers, only better. There’s a sense of peace that’s been missing since-well maybe they never had it. There’d always been something: yellow-eyes, the apocalypse, leviathan. Demons and angels. But now all of that just didn’t seem to matter as much.

The temperature was mild as they drove from Kansas to Illinois. They had the front windows of the Impala rolled down. Dean would occasionally sing along to a song on the stereo, sometimes just a snippet, and other times at full volume start to finish. Sam rolled his eyes and feigned disgust, but both of them knew it was just for show. Sam was so happy to have Dean back, he’d be willing to listen to him sing every song from every AC/DC album ever.

It was almost like having the Dean of 10 years ago, but with a new maturity. He smiled often. He told stories about their dad. Dean didn’t talk about John very much, but here he was reminiscing about hunts they’d been on when Sam was at Stanford. Sam loved hearing these stories, but more than that, he loved seeing Dean talk about their dad with no trace of bitterness or regret. It touched a place deep inside of Sam to see Dean so relaxed.

  


Sam was no fool. He knew the reason for Dean’s good humor. No one, not even Sam himself, could smooth the rough edges of Dean Winchester the way a certain blue-eyed angel could.

He’d suspected Dean harbored feelings for Castiel for a long time. At first Sam assumed they were similar to Dean’s feelings for him: brotherly affection with shades of overprotective obsession. After purgatory and Dean returning solo, Sam realized the truth.

Dean was deeply, completely, and irrevocably in love with the angel.

Sam had never before seen Dean in love. It was a fact which made Sam sad in a way. Of course, Dean being Dean, he didn’t act like a normal person in love. Dean ran hot, then cold with Cas. He’d act like he couldn’t live without him one moment, while in the next he’d send him packing, certain the angel would be able to make his own way. As soon as Cas was gone, Dean would go dark-side, drinking too much and plunging into the most dangerous cases they could find.

Sam wondered if Dean knew. Did Dean understand the tug in his heart when he saw Cas, or spoke about him, or hell, even thought about him, meant love?

Before Demon Dean, Sam wouldn’t have bet on it. Now-well now he wasn’t so sure. Dean was different. More open. More talkative. Not always and he still had his limits (Dea-stiel, Sam thought with a smirk), but the difference between now and this time last year was like night and day.

And here they were driving towards the man himself, the angel of Thursday. He wondered how Dean would react to Cas. They hadn’t seen each other since the demon cure. Dean had been hurt that Cas had taken off with Hannah, but Sam was willing to bet every book in the bunker library that Dean hadn’t asked him to stay. He guessed Dean had been too scared of rejection or of being hurt.

Sam knew Dean had nothing to worry about. Those weeks he and Cas had spent together only confirmed what Sam had suspected since he’d heard Cas utter the phrase “more profound bond”. That angel was as much in love with Dean as Dean was with him. Maybe even more so.

Sam smiled to himself as Dean once more broke into song. He didn’t know what to expect when they saw Cas again, but he hoped it would be good. Sam wanted his family to be together.


	5. Chapter Five

Dean had done a lot of really terrible things while he was a demon. He’d hurt people. He’d taken what he wanted, never caring about the fallout. He had felt so little, but the faint strand of humanity still threading though him had yearned to experience something.

Sex and booze had been the only things that had come even close to providing some sensation. But it required an extreme volume of alcohol, gallons, and a ridiculous amount of sex, the kinkier the better, to even come close to scratching his itch.

Sex was nothing new to Dean. Even sex with more than one person at a time wasn’t unexplored territory. But the sheer amount of partners and positions he’d burned through during his demon days caused Dean quite a bit of anguish. Female, male, both at the same time, topping, bottoming, none of it mattered. He just needed it. All of it.

He’s thankful being a demon seemed to have protected him from a myriad of potential infections. He’d made sure of that with an appointment to the free clinic shortly after he’d come back. They gave him a clean bill of health and a bag of condoms. Evidently he looked like the kind of guy who didn’t have trouble with the ladies.

As it turned out, he was also the kind of guy who didn’t have trouble with the gentlemen, either.

That had surprised him. A part of him had assumed his willingness to sleep with anyone, regardless of gender, had been part of the demon thing. Most of the demons he had known certainly hadn’t seemed to discriminate. But the way he noticed the nurses blue eyes and strong jawline at the clinic or the way he found himself actually flirting with the deputy on one of their cases clued him into the fact that maybe this was another thing that had changed about him.

Or maybe being a demon hadn’t changed his preferences, but rather had broken through all those barriers he’d erected against his attraction over the years.

He liked women. And he liked men. He could live with that. He hoped Sam could live with it, too. Dean wasn’t going to start banging every dude he met. He wasn’t even going to start banging every woman he met. It just wasn’t about that anymore.

Dean is looking for something more than that. When he’s being honest with himself, which, to his credit, he’s trying to do a lot more of these days, he acknowledges that what he’s really looking for is a kind of intimacy he’s never found in sex. He’s looking for a bond with someone.

He’s looking to build a life. Looking to do something that normal people did. Something that real people did.

  


Dean realizes they are just 50 miles outside of Pontiac. He knew they could make it the rest of the way with the gas left in the tank, so he wouldn’t have to stop at all before getting there.  


He was going to see Cas. Maybe he was going to see about starting that life.


	6. Chapter Six

They get to the pre-arranged meeting spot, a diner of course, before Cas. Sam is inside researching or playing Clash of Clans or something. Dean walks around the parking lot stretching his legs. At least that’s what he told Sammy he was doing.

Truthfully he’s trying to calm his nerves. Soon he’ll be seeing Cas. Talking to Cas. Maybe even hugging Cas.

That last thought causes his stomach to do a little flip and his groin to stir a bit more than Dean thinks is strictly appropriate. Dean checks his watch. They’d arrived well ahead of schedule. Dean’s foot always turns to lead when he is excited to get somewhere.

He smirks to himself as he spots the big gold Lincoln pulling into the parking lot. He thinks of his dad’s truck, Sammy’s unfortunate charger, even the Impala. No one can accuse his family of being inconspicuous.

Cas doesn’t see Dean at first, since Dean is on the far side of the diner when he pulls in. Dean watches Cas park, then he sees him grip the steering wheel with both hands before taking two long, deep breaths. He looks like he’s steeling himself for battle.

That thought causes Dean a pang in his heart. He hopes Cas doesn’t feel like seeing him is a fight. The idea of Cas not being eager to see him fills Dean with dismay.

The dismay is blown away when Cas gets out of the car and catches sight of Dean. A huge smile threatens to crack his face in half. And it is all directed at Dean.

_I’m a goner. There’s just no way I’m not going to spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to see that smile again. ___

The men stride towards each other. Dean has a brief flash of purgatory. He remembers how relieved he’d been to have finally found his angel. He remembers those blue eyes peering out from a dirty, bearded face. The feeling of finally coming Home.

He feels like that now. This time, though, Cas looks as happy to see him as he is.

“Hello, Dean”

“Hiya, Cas”

It is their ritual. The formulaic greeting. Dean tries to infuse as much feeling as he can into his two word hello.

There’s an awkward beat. Then suddenly they are in each other’s arms. Dean squeezes tightly while surreptitiously breathing in Cas’ unique smell. Even with his borrowed grace and his weakened mojo, he still smells like Cas. To Dean he smells like heaven.

It makes Dean’s head spin.

They hold on ( **clung** ) a bit longer than is strictly necessary, but Dean finds he is reluctant to let go right away. Finally he gives one more squeeze and two swift pats on Cas’ back, then relinquishes his grip.

“You look good” Dean echoes their first conversation after the cure.

“So do you, Dean. Very good. Sam tells me you’ve been doing very well.”

_I would have told you myself if you’d called._

He doesn’t want to hear from that part of himself right now, so he brushes those thoughts aside.

Instead he says “Yeah, I’m good. Hungry, though. Sammy’s inside. You wanna go in?”

Cas nods. Dean resists the urge to slide his arm around Cas’ waist or reach for his hand as they walk in.

_Steady there, Winchester. Don’t scare away the angel._

He contents himself with walking close to Cas, practically pressing his hip into the other man’s side. He knows what this must look like to other people. To Sammy. He just can’t bring himself to care.

Cas is here. Cas is with him.  


Sam has his stuff spread everywhere, so Dean and Cas slide into the bench seat across the booth from him. Dean tries to slow his racing heart, glad for the first time that Cas hasn’t retained all of his celestial power. Dean suspects if he had, he’d be able to sense Dean’s agitation (excitement) in an instant. Instead Cas just scrunches into the corner of the booth and shoots Sam a broad smile. Dean is secretly gratified to notice it’s not quite as wide as the smile he gave Dean.

“Sam” Cas says. Dean realizes Sam and Cas have their own ritual greeting. He feels a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at this thought. His brother and his angel having their own connection. Dean realizes what a good thing that is. He’s so grateful they had each other when he was away.

He’s pulled back to the conversation at hand. Cas is telling Sam how he found the remaining Novak.

“Wait, what happened to Jimmy’s wife? Amelia?” Dean asks.

Cas looks ashamed for a moment.

“After Jimmy left…After I took him away, Amelia had a very difficult time. She got sick. She didn’t fight. So she…she died.”

Cas looks stricken. He looks first at Sam, and then turns to Dean. Dean can see the pleading in his angel’s eyes. The guilt and the shame.

Dean is done seeing guilt in his friend’s eyes.

“Cas, you didn’t know. If you had, you’d have done something.” Dean says reasonably.

“Yeah, Cas” Sam adds. “And you’re here now. How many other people would do that?”

“I’m not really ‘people’, as you say, Sam, but I appreciate you trying to make me feel better.”

Cas statement about not being people brings Dean up short. Hmph-that’s how he feels sometimes, too. Like he’s not ‘people’ He doesn’t get to do or feel or be the things ‘people’ get to.

He’s lost the thread of the conversation again.

“So you managed to track Claire down to here?” Sam asks.

Claire. Jimmy’s daughter. And Cas’ vessel for a hot minute. Wow. Dean had somehow forgotten all about her. Yet here was a person that somehow carried a piece of both Jimmy and Cas inside of her. What would this girl be like?

“Yes, apparently after Amelia died last year, Claire spent time ‘couch-surfing’ I think they call it, with various friends. Then she got into some kind of trouble and child services got involved. She has been placed with a foster family in a home about 10 minutes from here.”

Cas actually looks a little sick to his stomach after he finishes telling them what he knows. That shame again. Dean hates it.

“Hey Cas, it’s okay. It’s not like you could have taken her in, right? We were fighting for our lives, remember?”

Cas looks at Dean. Dean looks right back. Eventually Cas nods once, like he’s made some kind of decision. He turns towards Sam.

“Sam, I’m not sure what the best way to approach Claire is. I could use any advice you might have.”

Dean tries to push down the hurt he suddenly feels when Cas asks Sam for help rather than him. Didn’t Cas trust Dean’s advice, too? He had to quickly avert his eyes, because he knew this wasn’t about him, not really. Cas needed whatever help there was to be had and Dean didn’t begrudge Sam being the one Cas wanted.

Dean tried not to jump when he felt a hand grip his leg tightly. He looked down to see Cas squeezing just above his knee. Cas didn’t look away from Sam, who was listing possible safe meeting places, but he did tighten his grip once before removing his hand from Dean’s thigh.

Dean wasn’t sure what the hell that was all about, but he felt strangely reassured. He glanced around the diner once more, regaining his composure and trying again to steady his racing pulse. Then he joined into the conversation fully.

 


	7. Chapter Seven

They decide the best thing is to have Sam attempt first contact with Claire. He is the best with the sympathy and the puppy dog eyes, and he had been the least involved when Claire had been a vessel, so he seemed the safest bet.

Dean and Cas wait in a nearby park. It is so much like the very first time Dean felt like Cas was anything but a machine. Dean smiles at the memory.

When Cas looked at him out of the corner of his eye and said “Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?” Dean can’t help but grin like a fool. He loves that Cas had been thinking the same thing. It makes him feel close to the angel.

“Sure, Cas, you can tell me anything.”

“I’m no longer sure I want my grace back.”

This was so far from what Dean was expecting to hear. Wasn’t that what Cas had been fighting for this entire time, since the night of the falling angels?

“Why, Cas?”

“I no longer belong in Heaven, Dean. I can’t think like a soldier anymore.” He smiles ruefully at Dean. “I think I’ve been around you too long to ever go back to just taking orders. And I’ve learned I’m not very good at giving them. So I’m just not sure of where I’m supposed to be.”

“Here. You’re supposed to be right here, Cas.” Dean isn’t sure he’s ever said something he meant more in his whole life.

Their eyes lock. That ever present current flows between them, charged and scorching.

Dean’s cellphone buzzes in his pocket. It’s a text from Sam.

**She’s ready**  


  


Dean didn’t know what to expect when he saw Claire again. It had been years since he’d last seen the girl and she’d been what-10? 11, maybe? Lots of time for her to grow up and change.

He honestly wasn’t prepared to see Cas’ (Jimmy’s, he reminded himself) eyes glaring out at him with suspicion. Claire eyed the two of them as they approach the outdoor restaurant she’d decided on as a rendezvous point. Dean had to hand it to the girl-it’s exactly the kind of place he’d have picked for a meeting with a yet-to-be-determined ally. Or enemy.

He feels Cas hanging back a little. Dean grips his shoulder and pulls him up beside him. He gives a reassuring squeeze before saying “It’s okay, Cas” quietly into the angel’s ear.

Dean watches as Cas put on his soldier’s stance. He’s wary, but holding his body loosely, in case he needs to move swiftly.

Sam stands as they get closer. Claire remains sitting, her back to the wall. Again Dean is impressed in spite of himself. This girl had picked the most strategically advantageous seat in the place. It occurred to Dean that perhaps a bit of Cas’ genius for planning had been left behind when he vacated her to return to Jimmy. Dean wondered what else might have been left behind.

“Hello, Claire.” Cas’ voice was more gravelly that usual, maybe owing to his nerves.

“Castiel.” Claire forced his name through clenched jaw.

“May I sit?”

The girl shrugs, but flicks her eyes to the chair across from her. Dean is suddenly glad he’s here to watch Cas’ back. He is completely exposed sitting across from this girl.

Sam and Dean settle at a nearby table. They sit next to each other, rather than across, facing the angel and the girl. They both want to keep on an eye on what’s going on.

Dean is tense. He realizes he is terrified of this little slip of a girl hurting his angel. He knows Cas would never defend himself if she lashed out at him. He believes he deserves any abuse this kid has to give him.

Cas is speaking too quietly for the boys to hear from where they sit. Dean watches Cas’ mouth forming so many words. He’s pouring out his heart to this girl. His face looks so sincere and so grieved it twists something inside of Dean.

Finally Cas begins to wind his speech down. Dean isn’t sure exactly what Cas had intended to say to Claire, but he assumes there would be an apology and a commendation about what a good man Jimmy had been.

Cas’ mouth finally stops moving.

Claire looks at him in silence for a heartbeat or two.

Then she explodes.

“Fuck you, Angel. Where the fuck were you when my mom got sick? I needed my dad then, you bastard, but I would have taken you, too.” She was shouting.

Cas lowers his head, unaware or uncaring about the attention they are drawing.

“You are a heartless, soulless thing. You didn’t give a fuck about taking my dad, and when I prayed to you-to you of all people, Castiel,” her voice drips venom as she spits his name out. “You didn’t show up at all. You could have saved her, but you left us to rot. You left me.”

Claire is standing now, towering over the angel in front of her. She doesn’t care who sees her screaming at this stranger.

Dean can’t deal with it anymore. He’s had enough.

“Hey, you don’t get to talk to him that way!” Dean growls.

Claire glares at him. Cas tries to say something, but it’s now a standoff between the hunter and this girl.

“Who the hell are you, his body guard?” She sneers.

“No. I’m his family.”

Surprise flickers in her eyes. It’s there and gone. She moves back a half step and looks Dean up and down.

“You don’t look like an angel.”

It takes Dean a second to work out what she is saying. Angel? Him? Hell no. Then he gets it. She assumes he is one of Cas’ dick-bag brothers.

“I’m no angel, sister. Cas is my family. That’s it. Me and him, we’ve been through a lot together. We’ve been through everything, really. And family doesn’t start or end with blood.”

Cas and Claire look at him with twin blue eyes. It is disconcerting. Both sets are so familiar, but only one pair of eyes means anything to him.

Means everything to him, in fact.

“Dean, I can handle this. Can you give Claire and me just a minute?”

Cas holds his gaze. Dean feels…he feels so many things right now. He looks between the two, dark haired angel and blond girl-child and realizes this is a moment when he can choose to trust Cas.

So he does. He jerks his head at Sam to follow him to out of the seating area. Cas will be okay.

And if he isn’t, well, Claire Novak will have hell to pay.


	8. Chapter Eight

Dean is pacing around the motel room he and Sammy had rented. They’d actually rented two when they got to town, since they figured Cas would need one, too. Dean isn’t sure how he feels about Cas being in a room so close to him. He tries not to think about the ache that spreads from his gut to the base of his spine at the thought of Castiel sleeping just on the other side of a thin motel room wall. Or the thought of him sleeping even closer.

But Cas is still with Claire. Dean can’t imagine what they must be talking about all this time. Sam and Dean had hung around the restaurant for a while after Claire’s intial outburst, but when it seemed like the immediate threat had passed, Cas came and asked the boys to return to their motel. He felt like Claire would be more trusting if he didn’t have such threatening looking “back-up”.

_Damn right we looked threatening. ___

Now they are just waiting for Cas to get back. Sammy has been on his computer most of the night. He went out around dinner time to bring them some food. Dean didn’t want to leave the motel in case Cas came back. He only picked at his food when Sam returned with it.

There is a knock at the door. Dean jumps and flings the door open, basically forgetting every hunting lesson his father ever instilled in him. Sam rolls his eyes. It’s just Cas, of course, but Sam still can’t help but be amused by Dean’s reaction.

Dean pulls the angel in, then checks outside to see if he’s been followed. Not all of his good habits are being ignored tonight.

Cas stands in the middle of the room. He looks…actually, he looks okay. Dean didn’t know what to expect after spending hours in the company of his former vessel and…daughter?

_hmmm, that’s a weird thought. ___

“Well? How were things with Baby Cobra?” Dean demands.

Cas looks at him with his usual confusion. “I assume you mean Claire. Things are…good, I think. We talked about a lot of things. I helped her understand some things about her father. And even some things she’d experienced as a side-effect of being a vessel. Overall it was rather informative. In both directions.”

He looks from Dean to Sam, then back to Dean.

“And?” Sam prompts.

“And, she will be staying with the foster family she is currently living with. Amazingly enough they seem to really care for her. I am given to understand that isn’t always the case with foster families.”

Dean and Sam make eye contact and share a moment of gratitude that neither of them ended up in the system. They knew what Cas said was true. Good foster families were sometimes the exception, rather than the rule.

“Claire has friends here. She’s a junior in high school, and she tells me that starting in a new place at that stage of adolescence is very difficult.” Dean wonders if Cas had possibly been thinking of taking Claire with him wherever he was going next.

Next. That was a strange notion. What did Cas have planned for next?

Dean shakes off that thought to concentrate on what Cas is saying.

“She gave me her cellphone number and email address. She’s asked me to stay in touch.” A sweet smile crosses Cas’ mouth at the memory. He touches the cell phone in his pocket briefly. Dean knows the power of having a way of contacting a person that one cares about. He understands completely.

“That’s great, Cas. Really great.” Sam says. Sam is always so good with the whole encouragement thing.

“So what’s next Cas?” Dean asks because he can’t help asking, even while being scared to death of the answer.

Cas looks out the window for a long moment. Then he breathes deeply.

“I’d like to go and get some dinner.”

Dean puffs out a laugh. He forgets sometimes that this Cas needs things like food and sleep every now and again. Dean realizes he likes this about Cas. It makes him seem more approachable.

“Yeah, Cas, let’s go get something to eat.”

  


Sam had actually eaten some of the food he’d brought back to the motel for him and Dean, so he begged off dinner. Dean realizes he is famished, now that he feels like Cas is out of immediate danger. They go back to that same diner they’d met at earlier in the day. It is an easy choice. They need more easy choices in their lives.

After getting settled across from each other in a booth in the corner, they order some food and a couple of beers. Dean is a little surprised at how normal this all felt. He wasn’t all that used to feeling normal.

_Almost like a real person, huh, Winchester? ___

“You know, I hold you partly responsible for why I had such a hard time acclimatizing to humanity.”

Cas’ voice breaks into his reverie. Dean takes a moment to register what Cas had said. Then he bristles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s defensive, he knows. It’s born of guilt. He can’t stand the thought of causing Cas any kind of difficulty or pain.

Cas sighs. “I just mean…Dean, you were the first human I ever became close to. I wrongly assumed you were an accurate representation of the species.”

“Geez, thanks Cas. You really know how to make a guy feel good about himself.”

Cas fixes him with his cool stare.

“Don’t willfully misunderstand me, Dean. I just mean…” Cas clasps his hands in front of him on the diner table. Dean forces himself not to be distracted by those long, perfectly straight fingers.

“You really don’t know how unique you are amongst humans. Other people, they talk and they talk, but they never say anything. It was always just words.” Cas sighs again. “You, Dean, you say more with one glance at me than those other people say in hours of babble.”

Cas stares at his hands, considering what to say next.

“I kept looking into people’s eyes, trying to connect with them like I had with you. It was the only way I knew how to be. But people got so uncomfortable. Sometimes they’d say cruel things. Or do cruel things. Eventually I learned not to do that anymore.”

Cas chuckles. “Unfortunately, I swung too far in the other direction. I stopped making eye-contact altogether. I guess that behavior has its own set of cruel words and cruel actions.”

Cas finally looks up from his hands. His eyes immediately find Dean’s.

Dean is speechless. But like Cas said, he could communicate in ways that weren’t just verbal. Dean tries to pour every bit of himself into his stare. He is desperate to show Castiel his heart. He wants to sink his hook in deeply.

Cas’ eyes widen as he feels the tug in his guts. Here’s the Dean he fell for. He’s right here in front of him. Dean’s gaze is so intense. Cas doesn’t want to let himself hope that what he sees in Dean’s eyes is a reflection of his own heart.

“It’s only with you, man.” Cas hears this quiet statement after what feels like an eternity of swimming in those green depths.

Cas’ brow contracts. He’s learned not to tilt his head when he is confused or considering-too many puppy comparisons. It’s hard this time to hold back, though.

“What?”

“That. This. The silent communication. I only have that with you. And Sammy a bit. But mostly it’s just you.”

Cas realizes they are leaning in very closely across the diner table. He needs a little space to consider what Dean just said. What it might mean. Not much space, though. He merely leans back against the seat. Dean follows his lead.

They both take a breath.

Dean is looking at him. He looks scared. A bit lost. And, Cas is certain now, he looks a little bit hopeful, too.

“Dean, do you think we could leave this diner?”

Dean can’t help the raised eyebrow and smirk that crosses his lips. So many responses spring to mind. But this is far too important to treat flippantly.

Instead he nods and waves the waitress over.


	9. Chapter Nine

Dean and Cas leave the diner and get into the Impala.

Dean sends Sammy a quick text message letting him know they’d be back later. He’s trying more and more to be conscientious about keeping Sam informed. He realizes just what an asshole he’d been when he left that stupid note after he’d come back as a demon.

So, along with his newfound enjoyment of quiet music, his amazing nights of sleep and his acknowledgment of his attraction to men (one man in particular), he is trying to embrace the changes being a demon had brought. It was strange to think becoming a monster had made him a much better person.

_Maybe I should send Crowley a fruit basket by way of thanks._

He feels rather than sees Cas gazing at him. He allows himself to enjoy the thrill it gives him. He can feel a little fire starting to burn in his gut-at the base of his spine. He allows himself to enjoy this, too.

Dean has no idea where he’s going. He supposes it doesn’t matter, really. It feels so amazing to be in his car with his angel. It feels like he’s been waiting his entire life for this.

They leave town, and Dean manages to find an open meadow after a bit of exploring. He was half tempted to go find that barn where he first met Castiel, but he decides against it. He wants open sky and a cool breeze for this.

They’d stopped at a convenience store at the edge of town and filled the cooler with ice and some beers. Dean grabs two and comes around to the front of the Impala where Cas is waiting.

_He’s waiting for me. Maybe you are worth saving, Winchester, if this angel thinks so._

He passes one of the beers to Cas.

He finds he can’t seem to stop smiling. He steals a look at the angel beside him. Cas is looking up at the stars. Dean shifts a little closer to him. Cas turns from contemplating the sky to looking at Dean. Dean feels so many things.

It seems he and Cas always get stuck in some sort of perpetual feedback loop. It is electrifying and magnetic and usually scared the hell out of Dean. He finds that right now, it’s all of those things, but more overwhelming than any of them is how aroused it is making him.

It has always been this way between them. From Pontiac, IL to purgatory to the goddamned bunker and everywhere in between. There is just no escaping it.

Dean realizes he no longer wants to escape. He hasn’t wanted escape in a very long time.

So many of his early feelings for Cas were mixed up in his confusion and shock and pig-headed willfulness that it was impossible then to sort out what he really, truly felt about the angel.

But now, all these years later, he’s been gutted and burned out. Purified by hellfire. And Cas, well Cas had his own purification. He’s lost his grace and stolen another. He’s been betrayed and used and left for dead. Standing apart from heaven, all the while trying to piece it back together.

Dean needs to try. He needs his angel because through everything he’s seen and done and been, the one thing that remains unchanged is that Castiel is it for him. He is the only one he ever wants or will ever need.

These thoughts flashed through him in an instant. He know no matter what happens next, he’ll be fine. And he’s never, ever letting this man in front of him go. Not ever.

“Come here, Cas. Come to me.”

Cas looks surprised. And then the realization of what Dean is saying dawns on him. Joy unlike anything he has ever felt, even at the creation of the world, washes over him.

He is finally where he has longed to be for his entire existence.

“Baby, just put your sweet lips on my lips, and we’ll kiss like real people do.”

Dean’s voice is soft and it is kind and it is the only voice Castiel ever wants to hear again.

They were both new creatures. Unlike anything that had come before them. Perhaps they will write their own gospel.

There is only the sound of crickets and kisses and whatever sound two hearts and two lives and two souls make when they are finally allowed to intertwine.

**Author's Note:**

> This season seems to be showing a Dean that is finally (fingers crossed) ready to deal with his issues like an adult. What if being a demon actually helped him become a "real person" for the first time in his life?
> 
> Then, I heard "Like Real People Do" by Hozier, and the thought of how apart Dean and Castiel have always felt wouldn't leave me alone. They've been apart from their own species and even their own families. Maybe they could finally feeling a sense of belonging in each other. 
> 
> Bonus because in the song, the narrator talks about his love pulling him from the earth-How could that not be painted in shades of "raised from perdition"?
> 
> I had to race to finish this story before the mid-season finale of Season 10. I don't want any of my theories about the relationship between Castiel and Claire to be shot to hell by canon.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story. Please let me know what you think!


End file.
